


Roses of Picardy

by Tedda



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Downton Abbey Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Breaking Up & Making Up, Hand Jobs, Infidelity, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Period-Typical Homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:13:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24545191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tedda/pseuds/Tedda
Summary: "I'm scared of marriage." Jonny's voice is shaking, his hand clutching at Patrick's, a desperate look in his eyes. He rarely loses his composure like that- he’s always so measured and careful- and Patrick still feels like he should be the one taking care of him."You're going to be just fine.""Oh, am I?" Jonny laughs, a sound filled with hysteria. "I don't think so, not as long as you are around."(Patrick is Jonny's valet. They used to have an affair, now Patrick has to prepare Jonny's wedding. A Downton Abbey AU)
Relationships: Patrick Kane/Jonathan Toews
Comments: 10
Kudos: 135





	1. 1921, Grantham, England

**Author's Note:**

> You don't need to be familiar with Downton Abbey to read this but if you're into historical drama- or sassy Maggie Smith- I would highly recommend checking out the show. 
> 
> A few slightly spoilery notes: Jonny doesn't sleep with anyone but Patrick in this fic. He is engaged to a woman while having sex with Patrick so he's technically cheating on his fiancé with Patrick. Just wanted to put that out there as a heads-up :)
> 
> A HUGE thanks to [ Jackie ](https://elcapitantoews19.tumblr.com/) for giving me the motivation to finish this fic and being an awesome cheerleader and beta! 
> 
> The title is from the show's [ soundtrack](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6H6ZPFjlGMY).

"The gold cufflinks?" Patrick asks, swallowing around the lump in his throat. They are in Jonny's dressing room, an array of boxes on the dresser in front of them. "I think they will go well with Lady Elizabeth's tiara."

"Elizabeth is going to wear a tiara?" Jonny sounds helpless as he's staring at his collection of cufflinks. Even Patrick was overwhelmed when he grabbed them earlier to lay them all out for Jonny, and as Jonny's valet, it's his job to keep track of every single piece of Jonny's wardrobe.

"Her lady's maid showed me the headpiece," Patrick answers, setting the box with the gold pair down again. "It's very pretty. I think it will go well with her dark hair."

Jonny makes a low noise in the back of his throat, shaking his head like he couldn't care less.

"I thought I would go with the black ones," he finally says, pointing at his go-to pair. Patrick can rarely convince him to wear others. "To match the suit."

"You could," he agrees with a shrug. "I just figured we could choose something more special for a significant day like this."

He swallows when Jonny's gaze meets his. The future Earl's dark, intense eyes have always been compelling, and he's looking at Patrick without bothering to be subtle about it.

Patrick used to be scared of him when he arrived as a footman all those years ago. Jonny's barely older than him, and they were still teenagers, but Jonny used to carry himself with the same confidence even at 16. He knew his place and status in the world, and Patrick used to think he was just as arrogant and pretentious as most aristocrats he's encountered in his life.

But that was before Jonny went out of his way to make sure that Patrick was able to take a few days off when his grandfather got sick, before he kept asking about his family and showed genuine concern. Before he found time and opportunities to talk to him, to ask about Patrick's childhood and upbringing. It was before he requested Patrick as his valet and ensured he would be paid a generous salary. So, Patrick stopped being intimidated by Jonny a long time ago. Wariness became respect which soon turned into admiration and fondness. The Viscount of Grantham became Jonny when they were in private. And one day Jonny kissed him, asked him to come back to his bedroom and spend the night together, and Patrick said yes. He lost track of how many times it has happened over the months.

"It's not a special day," Jonny says, yanking Patrick out of his thoughts. "Not really."

It takes a moment to remember what day he's referring to. Patrick has to close his eyes to take a deep breath to be able to fake a smile.

Jonny's wedding.

He always knew the day would come. That, one day, Jonny would stop being his. He used to think he'd be able to handle it, that he was prepared for Jonny to make the announcement.

But there's nothing in the world that could have prepared him for the day Elizabeth entered Jonny's life. From the very first moment, she had been special. Not to Jonny, but to his parents and his family and the whole region of Grantham. An honorable lady from a wealthy, prestigious family with a lot of wealth and family estate behind her. She was _perfect_ for someone like Jonny, everything a future Countess should be. Patrick knew Jonny would be engaged a mere few weeks later. Still, that didn't make it any easier when Jonny told him.

"Well, we don't want you to look basic next to the bride," he says, faking another smile. This one must look even less convincing. His jaws ache from the cheerful expression he's willing onto his face.

Jonny grins back, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

"I don't think my cufflinks are going to be a piece that makes me stand out."

"We have to pay attention to the details."

Patrick has lost count of all the times they've had this argument. Over cufflinks and coats and unpolished shoes and suits and tuxedos. The list goes on and on. Patrick doesn't get paid enough for putting up with the clothing etiquette of the upper class.

"Alright," Jonny says with a deep sigh that says he's willing to wear anything to get over with this conversation. "The gold cufflinks."

"Very well."

"Anything else?" Jonny asks, shoulders sagging. "I saw we got some samples for the flowers."

"The gardener brought a few bouquets over. You should ask your mother for details. I think she discussed the arrangements with Lady Elizabeth."

Jonny's face tells him that he absolutely won't discuss the flowers with his mom. Not that Patrick expected anything else.

"That is all then," he adds, grabbing the chosen cufflinks to set them aside. They have a few more weeks before the wedding but he'll get them polished as soon he can. The days leading up to the wedding will be busy enough.

Jonny nods, breathing a sigh of relief. It's barely past noon so he must have at least two meetings he should get to and a dozen letters piled up on his desk, waiting to be taken care of. But instead of heading to the library or his study, Jonny stays back, watching Patrick gather the cufflinks. Patrick's really not sure what to make of that. His mouth is dry while he forces himself to keep his eyes on the boxes in front of him, willing his hands to stay steady.

They're on their own every single day. In the morning when Patrick has to help Jonny get dressed, in the evening when he has to help him undress. He’s not sure which one is worse. Things have gotten awkward between them, tension hanging in the air whenever Patrick is forced to invade Jonny’s personal space. He's gotten good at ignoring the aching feeling tugging on his heartstrings, the feeling of loss whenever Jonny _doesn't_ reach out to touch him. It's stupid, he always knew it wouldn't last. Jonny is going to be a married man. Staying for a few more minutes while Patrick's packing up doesn't mean anything. But maybe there will always be that shimmer of desperate hope blooming inside of him that he's started getting used to over the past weeks.

"Thank you," Jonny says while Patrick closes the last box. His voice is dangerously soft.

"It's my job," Patrick reminds them both before turning to face Jonny and his ridiculously dark eyes. They are just as soft, and Patrick hates how well he can read them. He swallows. "Let me know if there is anything else I need to organize. I am taking care of your shoes and-"

"No," Jonny interrupts. "No, that is not- Patrick, I know how hard this is for you."

Patrick could lie. Not that Jonny would buy it, but he might take the hint and drop the topic and let Patrick get away with it. Maybe. If Patrick's lucky.

"Yes, it is," he whispers, clutching the box with the golden cufflinks in his hands. He's such a weak man. And he can't even look at Jonny, eyes falling shut while he holds on harder, one sharp edge digging into his palm. "I hate it so much."

Jonny stays silent. He's so close that, if Patrick reached out, he could easily wrap an arm around his waist and hide his face in Jonny's chest and breathe in. Could feel Jonny's big arms around him until he feels small and sheltered.

He forces himself to open his eyes, finds himself staring at the brown carpet, and tips his head back. Jonny's already looking.

"Me too," he says before Patrick can get another word out. "I can't stand it either, Pat."

Patrick should correct him that it's not Pat or Patrick but Mr. Kane, but the words get stuck in his throat.

"Jonny, you're getting married," he whispers instead.

It should be My Lord or Sir. Maybe Viscount. Never Jonny. That alone could get him fired.

"I wish I didn't have to." Jonny grabs his hand. Patrick shouldn't let him. He should pull away and take a step back, put some distance between them, and remind Jonny how inappropriate this is.

His fingers slip in between Jonny's and he squeezes. Everything he wants is right there. And yet it'll never be his.

"I'm scared of marriage." Jonny's voice is shaking, his hand clutching at Patrick's, a desperate look in his eyes. He rarely loses his composure like that- he’s always so measured and careful- and Patrick still feels like he should be the one taking care of him.

"You're going to be just fine."

"Oh, am I?" Jonny laughs, a sound filled with hysteria. "I don't think so, not as long as you are around."

Patrick's breath hitches, his throat tight suddenly. Is he saying-?

"Do you want me to-" The word _leave_ gets stuck somewhere in his throat.

Where would he even go? The family would maybe refer him to another house, but this is his home and-

"No," Jonny says quickly, eyes wide. "Pat, no. That's not what I am saying. I don't want you to-" He interrupts himself, his face faltering. "Do you want to leave?" he asks, softer.

Patrick inhales. He arrived before the war, he's been living here for a decade, and the thought of leaving makes his stomach turn. He would have to make another place his home, and nothing could ever come close to what he has here.

"No. I just wish-" He closes his eyes again, cheeks heating up. He doesn't have any right to say this, it's too blunt and shameless. But he's crossed so many boundaries with Jonny a long time ago. "It hurts to plan this. It hurts to prepare your room for her and to know that she'll get to share it with you. To see you and to know that I can't- That we're not-"

"I wish we were," Jonny interrupts, pained. "That we could. I keep looking at you, Pat, and I just want-"

A knock on the door lets him jump back.

"Jonathan?" Another knock. His mother. "Are you in there?"

Patrick's hand falls to his side, burning from the touch, when Jonny lets go and he takes a step back, bumps into the dresser, his heart beating too fast.

That's why they can't. Even when it's just them in the privacy of Jonny's room there could always be someone who overhears something. And Jonny would be ruined, his entire life would be damaged by a scandal of such magnitude Grantham has never seen before. Patrick might be able to move away, and hope word doesn't travel far but they could both easily end up in prison if they get caught.

"In here," Jonny answers, his voice surprisingly steady. He takes one quick look at Patrick before walking towards the door and Patrick hurries to open the drawer to place all the cufflinks back inside while Jonny lets his mother in.

"We were just picking out the cufflinks for the wedding," Jonny says, sounding bored.

He said he wants to- What? Kiss Patrick? Make love to him? One of the boxes almost slips out of his sweaty hands.

"Oh, how lovely," her Ladyship says. "Did you decide yet?"

"He convinced me to pick something a little special." Jonny laughs, following it up with a small shrug. "He's going to get them polished in time."

"That sounds good." His mom puts one hand on his shoulder. "Your father was wondering if you could join him in the library. Mr. Drew will come over shortly to discuss his loan and you two are supposed to go over the documents again before he arrives."

"Yes, mother. I will come."

His mom leads him out of the room without looking back, but Jonny turns at the door and his eyes are so full of- something. Patrick wants to keep looking, to beg him to come back and finish the sentence but the door falls shut before he can identify the emotion in Jonny's eyes, and he's left alone with the stupid cufflinks. He wipes his palms on his pants, places the last box inside the dresser, and closes the drawer, barely remembering to grab the golden cufflinks. When he hurries to the servants' room in the basement, his heart is still racing.

-

He polishes all of Jonny's shoes that evening, fixes the seam of one of his coats, and goes through his usual routine to make sure he's got everything prepared for the morning when Jonny gets up. By the time he's in bed, he's tired enough to fall asleep right away.

In contrast to Jonny, he's not a light sleeper and there's never a lot of noise in the servants' quarters. So when he hears something, he jerks awake, feeling disorientated as he’s blinking into the darkness of his room. Nothing is out of the ordinary, a shimmer of light seeping through the crack of his door, his clock ticking on the nightstand. But then there's another soft thump that makes him sit bolt upright, adrenaline rushing through his body as the door to his room is being pushed open.

"Shhh," he hears. "It's just me."

Jonny. Just Jonny. Or perhaps Patrick should be panicking that the Viscount is in Patrick's room in the middle of the night.

"Can you come with me, Patrick? Please?"

It's a sign of their mutual trust that Jonny is here, that Patrick gets up without another question asked. Jonny's holding a candle, its flame flickering, and he's wrapped in his bathrobe, holding out one hand while Patrick gets up, struggling to get a proper look of Jonny's face. But this is serious if it's worth the risk of sneaking into the servants' quarters and being seen inside of Patrick's room.

They have to be quiet, the walls are thin, and the rooms close to each other, but Jonny grabs his hand nonetheless. Maybe Patrick should pull back, but he’ll just blame it on the fatigue that he doesn't. He walks these corridors every day when he makes his way around the house, but he's never felt this exposed and vulnerable, only in his pajamas, with Jonny's hand tight around his right hand, the flickering candle casting shadows to the walls around them. The air is freezing cold, like little needles poking into his skin, and Patrick's shivering by the time they reach Jonny's room, his throat dry.

Warmth floods through him, the fire sizzling softly by the bedside. Jonny left his lamp on when he left which allows Patrick to get a proper look at him now. His hair is messy, sticking in various directions, but his eyes don't have the usual glassy look to them when he just got up. He hasn't been sleeping then.

"What is wrong?" Patrick asks in a hushed voice once Jonny has closed the door behind them. Like he can't think of a reason why Jonny would enter his room in the middle of the night.

Jonny doesn't say anything for a moment. He looks at Patrick like he's suddenly not sure of himself. His chest is rising and falling with every deep breath, his body radiating heat, his dark eyes focused solely on Patrick. Everything about him is fierce and intense. It's easy to remember why Patrick used to be intimidated by him.

"Jonny," he repeats. "Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't do it," Jonny whispers, voice cracking. "I can't marry her."

Patrick inhales. He's too tired for this. No, that's an excuse. He doesn't want to deal with it, not in the middle of the night, not tomorrow, not ever. Because dealing with this means accepting that there's no way around marriage for Jonny. He's going to be the Earl of Grantham and he'll have to produce an heir and run the family estate. Patrick doesn't fit into any of that. There has never been a place for him in Jonny's life.

"It's going to be fine," he forces himself to say, aiming for a soothing tone. "It's normal to have second thoughts. It's just nerves. You're going to be-"

"Patrick, don't," Jonny says, taking a step closer. "You know it's not nerves. I can't get married to Elizabeth. I can't get married to a woman when I know what it's like to-"

"To what?" Patrick says.

"To be with a man," Jonny adds, softer. "With you."

Patrick doesn't mean to say something, but a whimper leaves his lips before he can stop himself. He shouldn't have come. He should have asked Jonny about why he burst into Patrick's room in the middle of the night and sent him away right then. But he's lying to himself if he thinks he would have been able to say no.

"Don't say that. Please don't." It comes out soft. Desperate and pleading.

Jonny brushes his nose over Patrick's and reaches out, cups his neck, and steps even closer, crossing yet another boundary ever so easily. They've done it so many times but Patrick's heart jumps.

"You can leave," Jonny says. "I know we agreed to never talk about it again but- I can't, Pat. I don't want to stay away."

"Neither do I," he whispers back. "But you have to get married and if we keep doing this- It's not making anything easier."

"I'm not so sure anymore." Jonny shakes his head, fingers twitching in Patrick's neck. A shiver runs down his back. "It feels like it can't get any harder. I keep hoping you'll ask me not to marry her. I wouldn't if you asked, and I know it's selfish of me to expect that or to think-"

"No," Patrick interrupts. He can't help but reach out himself now, fingers curling into the soft fabric of Jonny's bathrobe, smooth and silky underneath his fingertips. "No, it's not- I keep hoping you'll cancel the wedding, but I know it's not an option. And you shouldn't, Jonny, because it doesn't change anything. It might delay things, but it will only make it worse."

It might buy them time but what good would it do? Living off borrowed time, pretending life would stop for them, will not magically change the world they're living in. Jonny's reputation would be tarnished. A canceled wedding and a failed engagement will raise questions, rumors, and suspicions, and would only make the search for a wife more difficult.

"Run away with me," Jonny mutters, his hand covering Patrick's. He lifts their joined hands to his mouth and kisses Patrick's knuckles, once, twice, leaving a trail of kisses on his hand and wrist. In another world, he would make a great husband. "I will pack enough money for us to leave the country and start a new life. We could even leave the continent. If we both find work somewhere we'd make enough money to support ourselves."

It's a nice fantasy, one that will never become a reality for so many different reasons. Patrick closes his eyes for a second, breathing through a wave of want, and chooses to focus on the least serious one.

"Oh yeah? You'd find work?" He can't help the smirk making its way to his face. "I don't think you've ever seen a kitchen in your life. You don't even dress and undress yourself. And you are telling me you'd find work?"

"Yes, I would," Jonny insists, stubborn as he is. There is a shimmer of amusement in his eyes. "I would teach myself. Besides-" He turns his head into Patrick's palm, blowing out a gentle breath. "I'd still have you for undressing me."

This is not how the night was supposed to go. This is not what Patrick told himself would happen when he followed Jonny. He barely has time to catch his breath before Jonny releases his hand but only to guide it to the belt of his bathrobe, head tilted. Patrick's fingers must be moving on their own since he doesn't remember making the conscious decision to untie the belt. They agreed to stay away from each other, to maintain the friendly relationship they had established, as soon as the engagement was officially announced. But what difference does it make? Only until the wedding. Patrick won't ever get to touch another man in his life, so why should he not let himself have this when Jonny is right there in front of him?

His fingers are shaking when he hangs the belt over the back of a chair- it's not necessary to be so neat but it's a habit- and strokes the fabric of the bathrobe to the side. Jonny's hands land on his shoulders, a firm weight that makes him duck, while he opens the buttons of Jonny's pajama shirt. It's Prussian blue, the texture as silky as the bathrobe, rich and smooth. It's so much more expensive than Patrick's old washed-out white underwear that he sleeps in. He opens the last button and tosses the shirt to the side, hooks his thumbs into the waistband of Jonny's pants, and pushes them off until Jonny can step out of them.

Patrick hasn't seen a lot of naked men in his life, but Jonny must be one of the most gorgeous men out there, his skin smooth and warm. Jonny has always been athletic, he does a lot of hunting and riding, and his thick thighs are evidence of all the hours spent on horses. They are spread where Jonny's sitting on the bed, all shameless and beautiful, biceps flexing when he reaches for Patrick's hips to pull him between his legs. He might not be responsible for undressing himself, but he's gotten quite good at getting Patrick out of his clothes, fingers swiftly working their way down his shirt. Patrick's cheeks must be a bright pink when he loses his pants next, Jonny's eyes fixed on his half-hard cock.

"You are so pretty," he says, looking back up at Patrick. The fire is flickering, his lashes casting dancing shadows on his face and Patrick just- He wants him so badly his heart is aching, and Jonny is so beautiful and shameless in front of him, willing to share things that only husband and wife get to share.

"Kiss me," he demands while he straddles Jonny and the young Viscount laughs, hands settling easily on Patrick's thighs. He presses his lips to Patrick's shoulder, face nuzzled into the curve above his clavicle.

"Are you cold?" he asks into the skin, his warm breath making Patrick shiver. Maybe Jonny can feel him shuddering- he knows that Patrick gets cold easily- and he's moving them towards the bed before Patrick has a chance to nod.

Jonny's bed is heavenly big, the mattress soft, no comparison to Patrick's tiny metal-framed bed back in the servants' quarters. The sheets smell fresh and clean and so much like Jonny. His scent is everywhere once he's got them both under the covers, and he's facing Patrick, a soft smile appearing on his face. His mouth is right there, and Patrick forgets about why exactly this is a terrible idea and kisses him. Jonny's lips feel the same, soft and warm, made to slide against Patrick's, opening up underneath him. For something so wrong it feels stupidly right to kiss him, to be in Jonny's bed, and breathe in the same air. Patrick's cock is hard between his legs and it twitches when Jonny forces his arm between their bodies and takes them both in his big hand.

"Oh," Patrick says and Jonny laughs, gently brushing his nose over Patrick's cheek.

"You're impossible to stay away from," he says, starting to move his hips into his fist. The friction is so tight and hot, and Patrick means to meet his thrusts but Jonny's kissing him again and it's too much. His brain and limbs refuse to cooperate, he's riding the waves of pleasure, and Jonny is swallowing every little moan while he gets them closer to the edge. Patrick gets lost in the sensation of the kiss and the tightness of his hand around his cock, and he reaches out, grasping at Jonny’s biceps and shoulder.

"I've always been yours," he hears, shocked to realize he's the one saying it. "Always will be, Jon."

Jonny groans deeply. "Yeah, you are."

Patrick nods back, bringing one shaky hand up to cup Jonny's neck, pulling him closer, forehead pressed against Jonny's. More precum dribbles out of his cock that Jonny's thumb catches, slowly rubbing it around the tip. Patrick’s teeth sink into his lower lip, but he fails at biting back a groan.

"I love you," he whispers. "I love you so much."

It's hard to say the words out loud and he can only bring himself to admit it in the heat of the moment. It’s easier when he can pretend later that maybe it didn't quite reach Jonny’s ears, but that has never made it any less true. It might be wrong to say it, but Patrick knows with a deep certainty that it is possible to be in love with a man. Or maybe it’s just Jonny. It's hard to imagine he could ever feel the same way about another man.

"Pat," Jonny moans and the way he sounds is too much, so rough, deep and desperate. Jonny's lips muffle his whimpers, the room starts spinning around him as he comes, and suddenly everything is too hot and too sticky. Jonny is still frantically thrusting his hips, his face tucked into the crook of Patrick's neck, panting into the sweaty skin as he follows him over the edge with a deep groan.

"Stay," Jonny mutters, bringing his hand up to Patrick's face to brush a curl behind his ear. "Please spend the night here. I miss you."

Patrick clears his throat, breathing around the lump in his throat. A part of him still feels guilty about staying in Jonny's bed.

"Don't leave," Jonny adds softly even though Patrick has not moved an inch.

As if Patrick had the strength to leave when Jonny's pleading with him to stay. He turns his head and presses a wordless kiss to Jonny's shoulder and when he opens his eyes again Jonny's looking at him, eyes bright and fond.

Jonny eventually moves to turn off the lights and wipe them both clean and then Patrick is back in his arms, his face hidden in Jonny's chest, Jonny's arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. He thinks about what Jonny said about running away and how easy it could be if nothing of what's outside this room mattered.

"It's a nice dream," he whispers. "I wish it was more realistic."

Jonny hums into the darkness and Patrick waits for a more coherent answer, but it never comes. Instead, he falls asleep to Jonny's fingers sliding through his curls.

-

Patrick is so busy with wedding preparations that he doesn't realize how quickly time passes. He doesn't want to think about it either. And then, suddenly, it's the day before the wedding and Patrick might throw up. It's stupid, he's not the one getting married, but he's responsible for things running smoothly and- _Jonny_ is getting married.

The day passes in a blur. He gets up, has breakfast with the other servants, and double-checks that all his responsibilities are taken care of before he heads upstairs to dress Jonny, his heart sinking with every step.

Jonny doesn't kiss him, he stays silent while Patrick works with his gaze focused on the floor, a lump in his throat. There is one small moment where he's standing behind Jonny, adjusting his tie with shaky fingers, and he could swear Jonny's leaning back into him and he flinches away so quickly that Jonny turns, startled.

"Patrick-"

Patrick clears his throat but his voice cracks nonetheless. "Please, don't-"

He doesn't know what he was going to say anyway. His eyes are on the tie, the knot still loose around Jonny's throat, but he looks up when Jonny closes the distance between them. Patrick should be moving away again but he can't, his hands balled into fists before he can reach for Jonny's collar.

"Pat, I was thinking-" Jonny starts, voice rough. "We could still-"

The door to his room is pushed open with such force that it echoes through the room, both of them flinch even harder than before, and a wave of emotions rushes through Patrick's body, relief as well as disappointment and resignation. It doesn't matter. Nothing Jonny could have said would make a difference.

"There is the groom," David says, his smile so bright that it should be impossible not to grin back. Jonny's attempt looks more like a grimace while his other groomsmen stumble into the room behind David, each of them more excited than the groom himself.

Their arrival is Patrick's clue to leave but his hands are still trembling when he finally tightens the knot and adjusts Jonny's collar, careful not to let his hands brush over any part of the exposed skin of Jonny's throat.

"Enjoy your day, My Lord," he whispers, nodding at David and the other men.

The next time he'll see Jonny he's going to be a married man and Patrick doesn't turn to see if Jonny's watching him as he closes the door behind himself.

He has to take several deep breaths once he's back in his own room to calm his racing heart and it takes him a few minutes before he can dress himself, and head to church with the other servants. Everyone but the kitchen staff are allowed to attend so he crams into the last bench at the back of the church with the others and clutches the wedding program in his sweaty hands.

Jonny's at the other side in front of the altar, chatting with David, but he keeps turning his head, looking unfocused as he’s fidgeting with his collar and the hem of his vest and Patrick's tempted to get up and tell him to quit it, but he remains seated. Forces himself to inhale and fake a smile when one of the footmen tells a joke that never reaches his brain.

And then the music starts playing, everyone gets up and without thinking, Patrick moves up with the people around him. Elizabeth enters the church, everyone's head turning except Patrick's. He keeps looking at Jonny who's staring at his bride with wide eyes and pink cheeks.

If only he looked at Patrick perhaps he could- No, it doesn't make any difference.

The music stops just as Elizabeth stands next to Jonny, her hand passed from her father's arm to the groom's, and she says something that makes a tense smile appear on Jonny's face.

"Dear guests," the priest starts. "We have gathered here to celebrate-"

His voice is barely audible at the back of the church and he's got a dull, boring voice that blurs the words together into one string of meaningless phrases. Patrick's thoughts wander to when Jonny kissed him yesterday before letting him leave for the final time, how Jonny told him how sorry he is, and how much he wishes he could make their dreams come true.

"No," Jonny says, loud at the front of the church. "I am sorry, but I can't-"

Patrick's head snaps up just in time to see Jonny taking a step back.

"Jonathan, I don't understand-" Elizabeth starts, panic rising in her voice. People start craning their necks now, a soft murmur of surprise and shock coming over the church. Patrick's heart jumps.

Jonny can't- He's gone insane. He must have gone insane.

Jonny says something else, soft and quiet, only for Elizabeth's ears, and then something to David that makes David reach for his elbow, but Jonny has already turned away. He's walking at a fast pace at first, eyes focused on the wide doors in front of him, starts jogging at the third row, and then picks up the pace and starts running down the aisle.

The door is barely shut behind him when chatter erupts.

"I don't understand," the lady's maid says just as the footman next to Patrick turns to him with wide eyes, asking, "Did you know he would-"

"No," Patrick snaps back on impulse. "Why would I know?"

The buzzing of the conversation around him echoes in his ears, no words truly registering. He should run after Jonny. But it's not his place. It would look suspicious. They will meet him at the house if- What if Jonny won't be at the house? He just caused a giant scandal. What if he decided to run away, with or without Patrick?

The sobbing Elizabeth is ushered out of the church, her family shooting daggers at Jonny's family who are standing around helplessly, trying to apologize for their son’s behavior, looking lost in the chaos.

"Time to head back everyone," the butler announces loudly, waving his arms around, sending stern gazes to whoever is still gossiping.

Patrick follows on instinct, puts his hat back on, and heads back to the house with the others, chaos roaring inside his head. He helps the staff take down the wedding decorations, folds up blankets, and takes down flowers. Jonny might not be here anymore, he thinks, tossing a bouquet to the side. He might be on a train already on his way out of the country, maybe planning on disappearing forever. Patrick stacks a few chairs together, pushing the nagging question away of why Jonny didn't tell him.

-

Jonny's father announces after dinner that Jonny left, face twisted, his cheeks red and blotchy.

"He will come back," he says with the same uncertainty in his voice that Patrick's been feeling all day. Jonny's family will look for him, but it seems doubtful they would find him if Jonny doesn't want to be found, let alone would be able to convince him to return. "In the meantime," the Earl adds, looking directly at Patrick. "I suggest busying yourself with the work that was pushed back by the wedding preparations."

He nods and earns a small, jerky nod in response before the Earl excuses himself again, chatter starting at the dinner table. Even the butler doesn't scold them for feverishly discussing the news.

Patrick's forehead is throbbing, he can't think straight with all the noise around him and he's struggling to keep it together until he can sneak into his room. The privacy feels liberating. No one there to watch him fall apart when he slumps down on the edge of his bed, head falling to his neck.

Jonny didn't plan this. He would have told Patrick if he planned on leaving the wedding. He would have let his family know. He would have saved Elizabeth the embarrassment of being rejected at the altar. If their talk about leaving the country would have been more than a stupid dream, Jonny would have planned it thoroughly rather than hastily leaving his own wedding to disappear before everyone got back to the house.

Patrick climbs into his bed, face smashing into the pillow, and a deep groan leaves his lips when a sharp pain moves along his skull. He should take some painkillers now, but that means he'd have to go to the kitchen and he doesn’t want to run into anybody. But maybe he's lucky enough that everyone else has headed back to their quarters already.

Suddenly something crinkles underneath the pillow when he moves. He stops, pausing with his head hovering a few inches above the pillow. His hand is shaking as he sits up, pushing the pillow to the side.

There's a small envelope on his bed. It's wrinkled and folded in half like it's been carried around a lot, like the note inside has been taken in and out multiple times.

Jonny must have left a letter for him. Even if he didn't actually want to leave, it’s hard to imagine that he would make such an impulsive decision without a plan to rely on. What if he did arrange something without knowing if he would be able to go through with his plan? And Jonny would never run away without leaving a note for Patrick. This day has been confusing in a lot of ways but if there is one thing Patrick doesn't question, one thing that he knows with a deep certainty, it's that he _knows_ Jonny.

He slowly opens the envelope, holds his breath while he unfolds the small note it contains and releases it when he's greeted by the familiar handwriting. He has looked at thousands of documents written by the same person.

_I have been thinking about leaving the country a lot over the past few days. I know it won't be easy but staying here and living a life in marriage might be even harder. If you're reading this, I couldn't do it._

_I bought two train tickets, in case you still want to come with me. Please know I am not expecting anything from you, but if you want to follow me you'll be able to hand in your notice easily now that I am gone. I will be waiting for you at the train station. Please forgive me if I am asking for too much._

_J._

Patrick reads it a second time and again and again until he's sure he understood. Until his heartbeat has returned to normal, until he has convinced himself that the train ticket that is attached to the letter is real. A ticket to France, to Jonny, to everything he's been wanting to have for the past few months. All he'd have to do is hand in his notice and board the train. It seems like the easiest thing in the world.


	2. 1921, Picardy, France

Patrick almost misses his stop.

He has spent the last several weeks repeating the train’s station name over and over in his head. These last few hours he has been anxiously waiting for the right announcement as the different stations pass by and nothing has sounded like the name printed on his ticket.

It’s past lunchtime now and he absent-mindedly watches people leaving and entering the train, until, all of a sudden, his eyes catch on the sign at the station wall. He freezes, cold claws clutching at his heart, panic arising inside his chest.

He should have figured that he got the French pronunciation completely wrong.

Cursing, he yanks on his coat and grabs his hat, frantically pulling his suitcase down from the luggage rack to rush to the doors. A few people shoot him annoyed glances, but Patrick couldn't care less when he's hit with relief that the train isn't moving yet. He yanks the door open and jumps down the few steps just as the train whistle signals its departure. He's by far the last person to get out.

The station is small, just one platform and one set of stairs leading up to the exit. Only a few people got out with him and most are already making their way up towards the exit so he's standing in the middle of the platform all alone, looking around frantically, panting from the rapid exit off the train. What if Jonny doesn't show up? Patrick doesn't have money to return to England. He put all his trust into Jonny and he’s not there. No one’s waiting anymore and Patrick’s heart sinks. But Jonny can't- He wouldn't forget about Patrick. Or worse, change his mind. He must be here somewhere. Maybe he's late? Maybe he forgot the arrival time?

Then Patrick catches a glimpse of a very familiar coat. Familiar because he's the one who fixed the collar only days before the coat disappeared together with Jonny.

"Jon," he yells before he can help himself- maybe it's desperation, maybe certainty- and the man pauses on his way to the stairs, swirls around and Patrick breaks into a huge grin when Jonny's face lights up.

They start running at the same time.

"Jonny," Patrick breathes, walking straight into his open arms. They can't kiss, there are still a handful of people around, but Jonny's arms are tight around him and Patrick holds on for a few magical seconds, eyes squeezed shut, his throat dry.

He had so much time to think about what he wants to tell Jonny first. That he loves him, missed him, wants him and their new life so badly. But none of that is what leaves his mouth.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Jonny laughs and when he pulls away, his nose brushes along Patrick's cheek like it's an accident.

"Yes. Of course, I am." He grabs Patrick's bag for him and that is such a weird sight, Jonny in a casual brown suit, picking up _Patrick's_ bags rather than Patrick carrying _his_ belongings, that Patrick's breath hitches.

"I thought you didn't come," Jonny adds, more serious again. "I waited and when no one else got out-" He pauses, face twisting. "I couldn't bring myself to watch the train depart."

God, Patrick feels stupid. To think he could still be in the train if he hadn't looked out of the window and caught sight of the sign-

"I almost missed the stop," he admits. "My French is not great."

Jonny starts laughing, teasing but soft. He looks so happy.

"I am glad you found your way here. We don't have to stay in France if you're worried about the language." He pauses. "But let's go home first."

Home. Patrick doesn't even know what home is. Jonny has been here for a few weeks, maybe he's just been staying in a pub or an inn, maybe he rented a cottage. He probably has a plan for them or at least a few vague ideas. Patrick has so many questions, but Jonny will take him somewhere where he'll get to kiss him, and they'll get to talk and be alone.

His questions might have to wait until later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on [ tumblr ](https://blackhawksuniverse.tumblr.com/)!


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